


Keep the change

by Solovei



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, Cookies, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, M/M, No language barriers, Possibly Pre-Slash, They're awkward enough already
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solovei/pseuds/Solovei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a pretty normal day at Madsen's Cafe, until Emil sees the most beautiful person in the world across his counter.</p><p>CHAPTER 2 IS NOW UP</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 9 to 5

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pastelbirb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastelbirb/gifts).



> Happy birthday Sigrid! She said it was about time we got a coffeeshop AU in this fandom, and she was right!

It was the mid-morning slump and Emil was leaning against the counter, ready to sing the praises of the next person who walked through the doors. Anything, _anything_ to break this lull of boredom. He had been a little excited at the idea of working here while his parents figured out the family’s financial troubles, but this - this unending stream of people walking past and not coming in was brutal. He had even taken extra special care with his hair that morning, making sure it lay exactly as he wanted it, gathered back into a neat ponytail with nary a strand out of place.

Checking once again to make sure there was no-one at the till, Emil casually bumped the door to the back room with his hip and sauntered in. It always smelled amazing here - vanilla and chocolate and a myriad other flavors all saturating the air hotly. Tuuri was busy kneading dough, occasionally calling for her tall red-haired assistant to check on this or that oven. He had attempted to pile his long braid on top of his head and stuff the entire mess into a hat. Emil watched him scurry back and forth, apologizing every time, and smirked.

“Reynir! Is the cake for the reception ready?”

“Ahh! Y-yes - I mean… I think so? I’M SORRY!”

“Sigrun will come crashing in here soon to pick it up, so you better know! Go look for it in the fridge.”

“Yes! Of course! Fridge! Sorry!”

Tuuri rolled her eyes and glanced at Emil. There was flour on her cheeks, and the barrettes holding her short hair back from her round face had let a few strands slip.

“Hey. Shouldn’t you be watching the front?” She asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

Emil waved a hand in her general direction. “Nah, it’s dead out there. Just Old Baldy with his endless stacks of papers. I don’t think he’s gonna publish that novel before he dies, honestly.” He said with a chuckle. Tuuri did not look amused. “Come on, you know Mr. Madsen doesn’t like you being back here without good reason. He’s very particular about protocol…”

“Oh come on, I’m dying out there! Let me do _something_ …”

She seemed to give in to his pleading eyes and let out a sigh, handing him a tray full of cookies. “Well, um… you can carry these out, if you want-- DON’T drop them like last time.”

“I got it, don’t worry!” he said, walking back into the main room and very narrowly avoiding falling over when he tripped over the threshold.   

 

Emil looked up from where he ended up, on his knees on the floor, cookies thankfully safe. He started putting them into the display case before realizing something was amiss and blinking. There was a person in front of his counter. How long had this guy been standing there?   
“Good.. um. good afternoon...Morning? Um, HELLO. What can I get for you today?”

What the heck? How did Emil suddenly forget how to speak? He blinked one more time because looking again, he realized that this person was actually really … really … _pretty_. His eyes darted quickly over disheveled platinum hair, small mouth, eyes so clear he forgot where he was for a moment.

“I want…” the customer began.

Emil nodded, ready to key in the order on his cash register and trying to act like a person who was in full control of his limbs. His voice was even nicer than his face, he realized; it sent shivers down his spine, airy and ethereal but with a rhythm like knocking on a hollow tree trunk. This is how these things usually went, right? People told him what they wanted, paid, and he made it for them. In the back, he could hear the now-commonplace sounds of Sigrun crashing her scooter into the side of the building, her loud cheers, likely kicking the door open, but right now none of that mattered because if he waited long enough, this person would probably speak again.

He did not. At least, not right away. He pointed with a long finger to the tray of cookies Emil had just brought out.

“Oh, you’d like a cookie? Okay, can I uhh, can I interest you in anything else?” _Like a date, or a kiss_? his brain finished for him. “LIKEACOFFEE or um, somecake OR wealsohaveummmsandwiches---” everything he said came out in one long breath, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to backpedal away from any kind of inappropriate hint he may have accidentally dropped. What the hell was going on with him today? He was usually very charming and suave around customers; there were some older ladies, always coming in to knit together, who were definitely not immune to his charms.

The stranger looked like he was considering for a moment, before uttering a single flat “What?”

“I… um, I was wondering if you’d like something else with your cookie… maybe a drink?” Shit, that did not come out right. “I mean, something TO drink. We have coffee, and tea, and … uhh…” He could see Old Baldy’s annoyed gaze penetrate his already crumbling facade from across the shop.  

“I want another one.”

“Another…?”

The stranger pointed again at the cookie tray.

“So… you want… two cookies?”  
The nod was so subtle that Emil would have missed it had he not been absolutely engrossed in every single word and gesture this guy was making. As pretty as the person was, he seemed quite shy, or at least, not able to express himself properly. He slid the two cookies into a brown paper envelope and held them out.

As the other’s hand reached out, for a brief moment their fingers touched. Emil thought he felt snow - something cold, in any case; cold and pure and quiet.

There was the smallest intake of breath from the silver-haired person, eyes opening wider. “Th-that’ll be $3.50 please,” Emil managed to stammer out when their hands parted after what felt an eternity but was no more than a few seconds in reality. The silver-haired person quietly placed some money onto the counter, backed away a few steps, and dashed out of the cafe.

 

Emil spent the rest of the day mulling over what had happened, even as other customers came and went with their drinks and pastries. Was he scared? He didn’t even wait for his change, or… or was it a tip? Had his meticulous hair routine amounted to something? Maybe that was this guy’s way of flirting… and anyway, who orders two cookies but no tea or coffee? It must all mean something, he realized. And what it meant is that he screwed up and would never see him again.

As it neared closing time, he heard a crash from outside again, barely lifting his eyes when Sigrun burst into the cafe a few minutes later. “YO -- oh, hey little viking. What’s got you down?” she asked, taking off her helmet and hopping up to sit on one of the counters in clear violation of Mr. Madsen's food safety protocol. Emil looked up from where he was slumped over one of the display cases.

“The most beautiful person in the world came in here and I didn’t even get his name or his number or anything,” he explained, disappointment dripping from his words.

“Oh. That sucks. What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. It’s all hopeless. Everything is in vain.”

Sigrun looked at him for a few moments, as if confused. “Well, why don’t you ask Uncle Trond?”

“Old Baldy? The guy who keeps asking me to read his stupid book?” he asked, standing up.

“Yeah, he knows everything about everyone in town. Got me this job, too! Uncle Trond is awesome.”

“Okay, I… I guess it’s worth a shot…”

“That’s the spirit!” Sigrun yelled, hitting Emil on the back so hard he nearly lost his balance. Yes, he thought… maybe something would come of this after all.

 


	2. Something for Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil desperately needs to find out the name of The Most Beautiful Person in the World, but it won't be as easy as he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys must've really liked this! I got a lot of comments asking for a second chapter, so here it is!

About two weeks into his retirement, Trond Andersen realized he didn’t really care for this new abundance of free time. Having spent most of his life in the army, he couldn’t cope without routine.  Sure, there were all sorts of classes and activities for “old people” but he didn’t count himself among that group - he was perfectly in control of his faculties, thank you. So he found the perfect solution - every day between 9 and 3, the former general and well-known busybody sat in the same seat at Madsen’s Cafe, reading the newspaper, working on his memoirs, and listening for any bits of gossip he manager to catch. People talked, and Trond had an amazing memory. He always ordered the same thing - strong tea and a plate of ginger biscuits.

This is where Emil found him two days after his fateful encounter, without surprise but with a sense of resignation. He hated doing this, but if he wanted to meet his mysterious beauty, he knew, he would have to swallow his pride and ask for help.

 _I’m not going over there to ask him for help_ , Emil told himself, _I’m just going to take his cup so I can wash it, and maybe he wants a refill or something_. Yes, that is exactly what he was doing. Just busing tables like he always did when it was quiet.

“I need your help with something” Emil said quietly, conspiratorially, as he took the empty plates. There were maybe ten other people at the cafe. The old man looked up at him over his tiny glasses, an inscrutable look on his face. The shiny dome of his head glistened under the lights in a way that made Emil uncomfortable.

“Oh? Something tells me this is not a matter you are terribly proud of,” Trond said, his voice even and paced. Whatever aloof confidence Emil had mustered deflated in a split second, like a balloon shot with an arrow.

“Well no, not exactly but listen I just need---”

A withered hand shot up, silencing him. “Ah-ah, you don’t get something for nothing, Västerström. I’m sure your parents know that better than most, but maybe they failed to pass that knowledge onto their child.”

Emil swallowed hard, gripping the washcloth tucked into his apron. The fact that he knew about his family’s fall from grace didn’t surprise him - it was a small town, people talked - but he was unnerved that he would bring it up right away. He let out a small breath and tried to center himself.

“Alright, what would you like?”  
“Another cup of tea, please. No sugar.”

Was that it? Everyone had made this guy out to be some kind of master manipulator, but Emil felt a wave of relief and pride wash over him as he nodded and picked up a few more dishes, dropping them off in the sink and pouring a fresh cup for Trond. Clearly he must be very good at this sort of thing; he didn’t even notice himself being sneaky and cunning back there, it must come naturally to him.

 

He beamed when he set down the cup and saucer, steam rising upwards lazily. “Your tea, Mr. Andersen. Now, I need to know the name of --”

“Not so simple, my boy. This is a big favor you’re asking here, and I expect something of equal weight in return.”

Emil rolled his eyes and hoped he did so without anyone noticing. “Oh-kaaay, what do you need me to do? Walk your dog, or clean your attic, or something?”

“As you know, I’ve been writing my memoirs, and I hear you’re one of them academic types.”

The old man wasn’t exactly wrong. Emil did spend some time at university, and he didn’t care much for it. He was between this and that life calling at the moment, but being adrift like that didn’t bother him too much until this whole mess happened and he was forced to find an actual job.

“... Sure, yeah. I’m very smart. All of my tutors said so.”

“I’m sure they did. How about this, then - you proofread my manuscript, and I will tell you the name of your young paramour”

Emil nearly swallowed his tongue.

 

And that was how he ended up sitting in his room after dinner, staring down a stack of typewritten papers, a sinking feeling in his stomach. The front cover read

 

> A Refrain of Shining Memory
> 
>  
> 
> by Gen. Trond Andersen

 

This far in and it was already awful. He hemmed and hawed for 10 minutes, opening the first page and then closing it again, leaning back or forward in his chair; at one point he considered going down to ask his Aunt Siv for help - she was a scientist, so she must know something about this kind of thing.

No! Emil decided. He was going to do this, so he could see him again. Maybe it was time to work for the things he wanted. With a determined breath, he began reading.

 

> I was born on a drizzly Tuesday afternoon in quite unremarkable village nestled in the mounta

 

“Arrrrghhhhhh, nooooooo!” Emil groaned, getting up and stomping around the room in frustration. Surely nobody was worth this kind of torture. After all, he didn’t know anything about this guy. Maybe he was actually a horrible person, or not single, or--

“Cousin Emil?” A high-pitched voice called from the doorway. He turned, lowered his arms, and grinned.

“I’m fine, Ulrika. Don’t worry.”

She padded over to the desk and poked at the paper, flipping some pages and getting bored when she realized it wasn’t comics.

“What are you doing?” he girl asked, looking up at Emil.

“Just… doing a favor for someone-- Listen! why don’t you go see what your brothers are up to, hmm? I think I heard your mom say she was baking cookies and they would get to help!” He said, quickly rushing the child out of the room.

 

 _Okay, Emil. No  more distractions. Just sit down and read it, don’t think about it_ , he told himself. Red pen in a hand, he flopped cross-legged to sit on the floor, thinking that if he was more uncomfortable he would concentrate better. Going past the fact that these memoirs were extremely dull, Old Baldy had asked him to proofread, but… Emil realized that if he made too many negative comments, the geezer might not divulge what he wanted to know. Too few and he would suspect some trick - that he had simply picked random pages and made random remarks. Hey, that’s a good id-- No. No, he had to do this fo real. He took a deep breath, and began again, trying to hold the image of the beautiful stranger in his mind as he did so. This was all for him, after all.  

 

The next morning, Emil dropped the stack of marked up papers on the table by the fireplace. Everything about his appearance suggested that he had barely slept - his usually neat ponytail was messy and askew, eyes bleary, shirt wrinkled. “There… I…. I finished it… everything…. is done… like you asked… Mr. Andersen,” he managed to get out in between yawns. Trond took the manuscript and thumbed through a few of the pages. “Good work, Västerström. I’m impressed,” the old man said with a slow nod.

“Okay, I did what you asked,” Emil hissed, fatigue turning to distress. “Now will you tell me his name? Please?”

“Whose name?” Trond asked, sipping his bitter tea.

“That guy… the one who came in here two days ago, with the baseball cap and the pretty silver hair.” He could go on, of course - he could think of a million words to describe those bottomless eyes, the thin fingers partly hidden by sleeves, the voice that sounded like a summer wind. His face almost lost its mask of impatience and annoyance for a moment as he remembered that image, let it flood his senses.

“Hm. Don’t know him.” Finally came the reply.

 

Emil felt as though he was hit by a train. A huge black thing, fast and monstrous and he was powerless to stop it.

“I…. I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t know the young man you’re asking about.”

“But… but I did all that work… I stayed up till 4 am with your stupid book!” He was waving his arms wildly now, clutching at his hair in desperation. How could this happen? How could one person be so cruel to another?

The old man’s face showed no sign of sympathy; he broke off a chunk of the ginger biscuit and dipped it into his tea, returning his gaze to the day’s newspaper. “Perhaps you should choose your request more carefully next time, Västerström.” He said without looking at Emil.

 

The rest of the day passed in a haze. He rang up purchases and made coffee, but with none of his usual charm and enthusiasm. When he came time for his break, he shuffled out of the back door, zombie-like, to sit on the back stairs and stare into space. It seemed typical of his life, really. As soon as something good lay in his grasp, someone conspired to have it taken from him, usually making him look like a fool in the process.

 

Just as before, he barely noticed when Tuuri sat down quietly beside him. “Hey, Emil… are you okay? You look really tired.”

“No, I am not okay. I was just conned into doing a bunch of work for Old Baldy and I didn’t even get anything for it.”

“Oh… well, what did you want?”

“The name of the most beautiful person in the world.”

Tuuri pursed her lips for a second, not really believing that Emil could be that naive.

“Well, um… who is this person? A customer, or…?”

“Yes… he came in two days ago… and… bought two cookies…. but he ran off before I could…”

“And you say he’s the most beautiful person ever?” She sounded skeptical as he munched on an apple.

“Yep.”

“What does he look like?”

“Um, well he… he has really nice skin… hair like, like really really light, you know? Kind of like yours?” He added after a moment. “ And uh… he was wearing a hat and a hoodie I think. His eyes were amazing, Tuuri, they were like… endless oceans of the clearest water.”  
The young woman was thoughtful for a few moments, quiet. “Hmmm. Sounds like my cousin.”

“What.”

“My cousin Lalli. He works over at the veterinary clinic a few blocks away? He’s a bit of a--”

Her words were cut off by the fact that Emil had grabbed her into a tight hug. “Oh, Tuuri THANK YOU thank you thank you. When we get married you will get the first invitation, I promise!” He exclaimed before running back into the store. Dashing through the kitchen area, he grabbed the tall redhead by the arms.  
“REYNIR. Can you cover the front for like… 20 minutes? I need to run out and do something like, RIGHT NOW.” He yelled, eyes wide with excitement. Reynir yelped in surprise, going partly limp.

“Uh… ummm… ummmm… Mr. Madsen says I’m not allowed to… because of my ---”

“Oh it’s easy you just give people stuff and smile.” At this point he was already pushing the loudly protesting young man onto the salesfloor. “Okay thanks you’ll be fine!” Emil yelled as he ran out of the door, the bell announcing his departure.

 

He had never been particularly athletic, but his speed running towards the clinic was quite impressive. Of course, he had to stop and catch his breath for a solid minute or two once he got there, but that didn’t matter. What mattered is that he knew his name.  In the end, all of his trouble and humiliation had paid off. Emil did his best to smooth down his hair and compose himself before going in, smiling charmingly at the receptionist.

“Good afternoon. I was wondering if perhaps I could speak to Lalli?”

“Oh, sure… I’ll get him for you, one second.” She said, getting up and disappearing behind a door. He did one final check on his hair before the receptionist showed up again. “He’s with an animal right now, but he should be done in about 5 minutes. He asked if you could wait outside for him?”

Well of course Emil could wait. He’s waited his whole life for this, what’s another five minutes. All suave politeness he thanked the girl and went to stand by the sidewalk. It was a nice day all in all - he hadn’t been outside during the day in so long, he’d forgotten how the sun felt on his face. Maybe he should get Reynir to cover for him more often. Surely he could talk to Mr. Madsen about getting him some help, at least.

Momentarily distracted by something on the ground, the empty space in front of him was filled when he looked up again, with the most beautiful person in the world. He stood there, sans baseball cap or hoodie, wearing one of those hospital-type uniforms, its dark blue color a stark contrast to his pale skin.

Faced with this person around whom his existence has revolved for the past 72 hours, Emil was suddenly speechless. Thankfully, Lalli spoke first.

“Did you want something?” he asked, his voice rather suspicious, though his face didn’t particularly change expressions.

“Uh… well…” _Yes I want to marry you and we can invite your cousin, we can invite 100 of your cousins I don’t care_. “You came to the cafe where I work... “ Emil managed to stammer out.

“Okay.”

“Well and… you see… I was wondering if you’d like to… um… go out.” God, why couldn’t he talk to this guy like a normal person? He glanced up for a moment, noticing little barrettes holding back the hair, catching the midday sun. “Like on a date. With me.” He clarified just in case.

For a few moments, heavy silence hung in the air. Lalli blinked once, tugged at his shirt, looked at a bird fluttering on a nearby bush. Everyone else went about their day unaware of the colossal stakes that were in play here, of the young man who had just offered his heart on a plate to a total stranger.

It was the longest minute of Emil’s life so far. In that minute he had gone from mind-melding excitement to resigned failure, as the silence between them wore on. That was it, surely. He was rejected, plain and simple. Maybe there was someone else, maybe Lalli was just not into people at all, he would never know because--

“Yes.”

_What._

“Yes? Really? You’ll go out with me?” Emil’s face lit up again, he was grinning widely as though he was a small child in a candy store. He wanted to do a number of things all at once and his body didn’t pick any of them.

“... Yeah. Sure. You seem like… a nice person” Lalli said again, though his tone went from being suspicious to somewhat uncertain, maybe even shy.

“Okay… okay that is just… that is great. Okay. Friday? At 7? I can come get you?” He rattled off the details, seeing each one nodded to. Emil glanced at his watch; he should probably get back to the cafe before Reynir somehow managed to set the place on fire. “I should um, get back to work but… I’ll see you on Friday?”

Another nod. He wanted so desperately to touch him, just to make sure he was actually real, but it seemed too forward, too eager. Just walking away seemed odd, but so did asking for a kiss or hug or something similar. They stood in awkward silence for about 15 seconds before Lalli stepped closer, reached up, and gave Emil’s head a few pats. “Friday, 7” He repeated before turning and going inside the clinic again.

 

When Sigrun returned from her deliveries that evening, she found Emil putting up chairs and whistling to himself. “Hey little viking dude!” She said, slamming a fist on the counter. Emil smirked back at her. “Hello Sigrun~” His voice was dreamy, he wanted to sing and twirl and hug everything in sight.

“What’s up with you today?” The woman asked as she took off her motorcycle helmet.

“I~ Have~ A~ Date~” Emil chimed, turning to face her with a flourish and gazing lovingly at the broom he sweeping the floors with. Sigrun could only blink in confusion. “Okaaaay well. I’m going home… Do you want a ride?”

“Noooo~ All I want is for Friday to get here faster. But thank you~” Emil replied, his voice floating. Only a few days now, and he could not wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next chapter will be Emil and Lalli's big date! Lets see how that will go. (Knowing them, very awkwardly)  
> Thank you all for reading! I love all of your kudos and comments <3


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